


xxi

by burstaffinity



Series: because i love you [2]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles, Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Alvis is Ontos (Xenoblade Chronicles), Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29270169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burstaffinity/pseuds/burstaffinity
Summary: Two years after the world changed, Shulk searches for his guiding light.
Relationships: Alvis/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles), Fiora & Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: because i love you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922188
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyn worries about his friend.

Reyn hadn’t felt this nervous since, what, yesterday? Or whenever it was that ol’ square-tache had his last blow-up. That could have been yesterday for all Reyn knew, ‘cause yesterday was the last time Reyn paid attention to him. Or maybe it was that he’d felt this nervous _since_ yesterday, and “the last time” was the day before. Yeah, that sounded about right. He remembered walking into the Military District feeling nervous because square-tache was screaming; then, after he’d sneaked past that, he thought about what he’d have to do the next day. And _that_ made him nervous. So it had been a constant stream of nervousness, from square-tache to, well. Almost made him laugh. It wasn’t square-tache he was dealing with today, so what was he so nervous for? It was _Shulk_.

…ah, yeah. That’s what he was so nervous for. It was Shulk.

Shulk had. Not been in the best of moods as of late. Made a lot of sense, given what had happened. Doing all that for a girl only to break up not even a year after you started dating? Reyn knew exactly how rough it had been for both Shulk and Fiora, but Shulk was taking it like… like if Reyn said one wrong word to Shulk, all of Colony 9 was gonna blow.

Dunban had offered to accompany Reyn as… emotional support, he supposed, but he could tell even Dunban was feeling nervous. Was it because he didn’t trust himself around Shulk? Dunban couldn’t have been taking the breakup well, either, what with him being Shulk and Fiora’s number one cheerleader. Was Dunban disappointed in Shulk? Did he think Shulk had failed Fiora? Even though the breakup was Fiora’s idea. What would Dunban think if he found out Reyn did nothing to stop her? Reyn wasn’t trying to sabotage them. _Of course_ he wanted them to have a happy ending. Those were his best friends, and he’d put his own life at risk just to help Shulk get her back. So he _had_ a ponio in this race. But he could also tell something was off, that both of them were uncomfortable about _something_. Then Fiora laid it out to him in private: that the expectations of Colony 9 were crushing them, that Fiora was sick and tired of only being seen as Shulk’s girlfriend, and that, truth be told? She wasn’t who Shulk needed right now.

“Then who does he need?” Reyn had asked.

“I dunno,” Fiora had replied. “Someone who can snap him out of it.”

“Out of what?”

“His own head.”

Shulk had entered that relationship with lofty ideas, thinking everything was gonna be fine now that he could finally be with Fiora. Made Reyn a little nervous, but he was hoping Shulk would grow out of it. According to Fiora? Nope. He just kept digging in. Wouldn’t face reality. “Because reality would hit him like a sack of bricks once he realized it was there,” she had said.

Yeah: the reality of what he had done and the impact it had on the world. The magnitude of _who he was_ to the world. He didn’t carry the war hero thing as well as Dunban did, and war hero was the very _least_ that Shulk was. Being responsible for the whole world changing might weigh a little heavy even on someone like Shulk, who otherwise didn’t care much about what people thought of him.

Reyn noticed that Shulk had been escaping into his relationship with Fiora to escape all of that. Then he’d run off to some new interest that could also save him. Then he’d run back to Fiora. All he was doing was chasing distractions, didn’t know what the reality was. It didn’t occur to him that Fiora would be upset that he’d be gone for weeks without word of what had happened. All the while, Fiora would be faced with the brunt of that reality, of people’s expectations, of never having an identity of her own outside of Shulk’s girlfriend. And when she’d ask Shulk to face that, all he could say is maybe they should move away. He never wanted to _deal_ with anything. That was the problem.

And eventually Fiora had had enough.

“I love him, Reyn, I really do,” she had said, “but as long as I’m there to serve as a distraction, he’s never going to face reality. And I can’t make him face it. I just. I don’t know what to do!”

Reyn had been torn up about it, too. He didn’t like seeing Fiora so upset. But he agreed maybe taking a break was for the best. Although—

“Do you worry he might find someone else in the meantime?”

Reyn didn’t think so, but… Fiora went silent.

“There is… someone, but. Who knows where he is.”

“He?”

Fiora said nothing more.

Honestly, that’d been on Reyn’s mind a lot. Whoever this “he” was. He knew Shulk didn’t have a preference when it came to people, but he didn’t know of any “he” that Shulk fancied just as much as he did Fiora. Well, there was that Alvis bloke, but he wasn’t even a Homs, was he?

“ _Who knows where he is…”_

“Reyn, are you ready?”

Dunban’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. Reyn nodded and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

\---

During their journey through the Bionis and the Mechonis, Reyn had seen things he never once would have imagined — such as little bunnivs who could pulverize a man in a single blow. That was exactly the kind of energy this scene was giving off now. Shulk, nose buried in his work. Familiar sight. Harmless, even. But the aura was deadly. Reyn could sense not even Dunban wanted to disturb that “peace”. As long as Shulk didn’t know they were there, he wouldn’t blow up at them. So everything would be good, right?

“Do you need something?”

Reyn had to hold back a groan.

That god. Zanza. It hadn’t been lost on any of them how much he looked and sounded like Shulk. None of them could figure out why, least of all Shulk himself — and Shulk had been doing everything short of re-arranging his face to put a wedge between how he looked and how Zanza did. Mind, he’d only brushed the middle part of his bang to the side, and he’d dyed his hair a darker brown, but everyone who’d fought Zanza alongside Shulk knew exactly why he’d made those changes. Sometimes he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror without flinching, or hear himself talk without grimacing. Like he did just now.

The same thought that crossed Reyn’s mind had clearly crossed Shulk’s: he sounded a little like Zanza there.

“We were simply checking in on you,” said Dunban, sounding calm, collected, just like the natural born leader he was. Reyn again held back a sound, this time a sigh of relief.

“I see,” Shulk said, with no interest or enthusiasm. Almost mechanically, he stopped what he was doing and looked at them with a nonplussed expression. “I’m fine.”

Everyone in this room knew that was a crock of shit — even Shulk, though he was the one who said it, but he looked at the other two as if he was daring them to call his bluff. And when they didn’t, he asked: “Is that not what you wanted to hear?”

Reyn and Dunban stood in silence.

Shulk shook his head and returned to his work. “I don’t need your pity.”

Now that was the good ol’ Shulk Reyn knew: the terribly pessimistic one.

“We ain’t here to give you pity,” Reyn replied. “It’s like Dunban said: we’re just here to check on you.”

“And why else would you want to check on me if not out of pity?”

“Because we’re your friends, Shulk,” said Dunban.

“I just want to be left alone,” Shulk replied, frustrated.

“That’s all well and good, but we know you. We know if left to your own devices you’ll sit here alone for eternity.”

“And we ain’t lettin’ that happen,” said Reyn.

“Maybe it would be for the best,” Shulk said gloomily.

“I disagree,” said Dunban. “Shulk, perhaps you ought to take a walk outside. Get some fresh air.”

Shulk sat up, looking blankly ahead of him with humorless grin. “Heh. Dickson used to say that all the time.”

Defensive, pessimistic, and now — hopeless? Reyn was starting to think maybe they were the ones causing a fuss, not Shulk. “Come on, Shulk,” he said — and quickly moved out of the way as Shulk rose to his feet.

“I’ll go outside. Sure. Are you going to follow me?” Shulk looked at them both with a dead-eyed expression.

“Do you want company?” asked Dunban.

Shulk paused, thought. Replied: “No.”

“Very well,” Dunban said. “We respect your decision.”

Shulk left without a word.

After a long pause, they both let out a breath, and said nothing.

Reyn _really_ wanted to go out and keep Shulk company, but… He had to respect Shulk’s wishes. If Shulk wanted to be left alone then he wanted to be left alone. Be happy he even obliged Dunban’s suggestion to go outside.

Reyn just hoped Shulk wouldn’t do anything stupid while he was out there. He was still in Colony 9, so. No way that would happen, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of making Shulk a brunet comes from "[The Color of Your Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28702359)" by [MachineryField](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineryField). Check out his piece "[Cut It All Off](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25033954)" as well; deals with similar themes.


	2. i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shulk finds a lead – or is it simply a myth?

Before everything had gone wrong, he liked being out here — as long as it wasn’t too noisy. He’d camp out at the stall of a vendor he knew wouldn’t be too chatty and let the ambiance of a peaceful Commercial District carry him through his studies. He wasn’t a people watcher or really a people person at all, but Dickson was… Dickson was…

Dickson was dead. He killed him. And everything was going wrong well before that happened. It was clear to him now: he’d been seeking the normalcy of what he once knew in the the arms of the one he had loved before the earth shattered. With her, he could pretend that things were as they used to be. Colony 9 was still Colony 9, regardless the new faces and races, and he was still an inquisitive young man working at the Weapons Development Lab instead of being… _Shulk_.

His friends easily understood why he had changed his hair through the context of Zanza. It wasn’t entirely a lie, either: he _did_ see and hear Zanza in himself sometimes, and that made him flinch. And he flinched whenever he became aware of himself, too — not Shulk the weapons developer, but Shulk the hero. Shulk the young man carrying the entire world’s expectations and hopes on his shoulders.

He had _just_ turned twenty.

Now, when he was in the Commercial District alone, he could feel all the stares, the crushing weight of the silent questions of what went wrong, how could they break up, what’s _his_ problem? He was given space for silence here not out of respect but of disappointment and distaste. His attitude was “rancid”. He was mean. Just like Zanza. Just like Zanza. Who was “Shulk” but a weaker copy of the former god? If he kept walking down this path of bitterness and solitude, there’d be no difference between the two beyond Shulk’s inability to destroy the world at will. All he ever wanted to do was avenge Fiora. He never wanted to become a hero. He wasn’t built to be a leader. He did not want to be scrutinized, but scrutinized he was — and with him, his relationship. An escapist myth. Fiora had been the only one living in reality, and now he was forced to face it himself.

He wasn’t a hero or a leader. He was a disappointment. He never was “ _with_ ” Fiora. He was with his pursuit of what used to be. Had even his defeat of Zanza been done out of desperation to return to normalcy? With no god to decide his fate, he could go back to the lazy days of quietly studying in Colony 9, of acting as if scraps of metal were toys, not remnants of war. Reclaiming Alcamoth wasn’t for Melia’s sake; it was just another fun adventure. Fiora had that figured out. She was so perceptive. He loved her. He _did_ love her. He wanted to make her happy. But he had failed her just by “being” with her. Because he had never been “ _with_ ” her. He’d only been with his fantasy.

He didn’t enjoy being out here at all. He didn’t enjoy being anywhere, not as long as he was still Shulk the disappointment. He slowed his gait to glance over his shoulder, checking if anyone would be impeded by a sudden halt. There wasn’t, of course. His gloomy attitude afforded him that space. Should he return to the Weapons Development Lab? Perhaps Dunban and Reyn had left. He could be alone again and working. That was better than being out here and —

“Eh?”

He turned round to face a Nopon merchant’s stall. Something within it had caught his attention. Something deep red — and achingly familiar. Something that should have been attached to a person.

It had been two years since they defeated Zanza. Two years since he’d last seen Alvis. And no hint of that man anywhere, only memories of the brief time they spent together. Memories of his warm encouragement. Memories of his guidance — guidance that he could sorely use now. Where had Alvis gone? Why had he left? He said he had seen the world they lived in now, where all would walk hand in hand towards the future. So where was he? Wasn’t Alvis part of this world?

“Friend interested in cursed crystal?”

The Nopon’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Shulk widened his eyes — then felt a repulsive flash of indignation overcome him. The very idea of something belonging to Alvis being… “ _Cursed_?” he spat. “How is it cursed?”

“Nothing but bad things happen since find crystal in mountain,” the Nopon replied. “Strange things! Things go missing, or look strange. Reality twist on self! Myth say, ‘find all pieces of Holy Grail, then find happiness’, but that must be lie! Not happy with crystal! But friend can have crystal, for extremely reduced price!”

“You stole this crystal but still want money? How very pathetic.” Shulk let those words seethe from his mouth as he searched for the money needed, telling himself his tone was just… Bad habit. He no longer harbored that man’s spirit, but that man had taught him wrath. He couldn’t just shake that off with a change in hair style and color. If Alvis was still around then maybe… maybe he’d have intervened just then. Reminded him of his better habits. Maybe Alvis could do that for him again if he got his hands on that crystal.

The Nopon accepted Shulk’s payment. “Friend say ‘pathetic’,” the Nopon said, handing Shulk the crystal, “but friend still buy! Even though it cursed! Who is real pathetic one here?”

But the Nopon wasn’t talking to anyone. Shulk had already taken the crystal and left.

* * *

Shulk hadn’t realized how hard he had ran until he found himself in Outlook Park, out of breath, hand aching. What had happened?

No. That wasn’t the right question. He knew what had happened. He ran as soon as the Nopon gave him the pendant. He knew why he had run here as well: to get someplace where he could think clearly. He staggered towards and collapsed on a nearby bench, eyes gazing, unfocused, at the scenery ahead. Outlook Park was still a place of repose for him. He couldn’t process what he felt about having this crystal around people who were scrutinizing his every move. He had space to think clearly here.

Had he run here for Alvis, too? He looked at his hand, noting the ache from how tightly he had clenched it, and the indentations of the crystal in his palm. Alvis wasn’t here. Shulk still had no idea where Alvis was besides “not here”. He closed his eyes, squeezing the crystal again — taking note of what he felt, what he thought. Hoping. Wishing. If he clutched the crystal tightly enough with the right thoughts and the right emotions —

Manifesting something out of nothingness. Manifesting guidance from the chaos. Manifesting Alvis from his memories to reality.

Shulk opened his eyes and looked once more at the crystal.

He shook his head. Blinked. Had to re-orient himself. He felt like he might spin out from being dizzy. This crystal… it was the same color as Alvis’s pendant, and mostly the same shape. But it was larger and lacked the gold lining. Was this… even Alvis’s pendant? Had he just seen something red and ran out of Colony 9 like an idiot? This… it wasn’t… it couldn’t be…

He started to laugh. The laughter died in a despondent choke.

“Still chasing after myths, aren’t you?” he asked himself.

He wasn’t sure if this was Alvis’s crystal, but had a _feeling_ … A feeling. Just a feeling.

He let his hands fall to his side, let his head slump, and sighed. Just a feeling. Alvis wasn’t here. This pendant couldn’t summon him. “Just a feeling”? Wishful thinking. It wasn’t an exorbitant amount of money he had spent on this pendant, but it was still money, and still on nothing. And he’d still run out of Colony 9 in front of everyone to see! And for what? _For what?_ A stupid crystal that wasn’t even _his_? What were they thinking now? What questions were they asking? Did they think he had finally lost it? Their hero, a let down not just because he couldn’t take care of Fiora, but because he couldn’t even stay _sane_. So he _did_ start to laugh: at himself, at his stupid situation, at how he was so damn gullible to buy a crystal because he _thought_ it reminded him of someone who was dead for all he knew! He _had_ lost it! He’d gone utterly mad! What a loser, what a fake, what—

“What’s wrong, Shulk?”


	3. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Good ol’ impulsive Fiora."

Reyn and Dunban were gonna talk to Shulk today, weren’t they? Or at least they’d try to. Reyn told her last night how nervous he felt about it. She couldn’t blame him. Truth be told, she’d… kind of been avoiding Shulk, too. And she felt real bad about that. Like, Shulk’s problem was that he wouldn’t face reality, yeah? And here she was doing the same thing, not wanting to face the “reality” of Shulk being in a bad mood. But Shulk had gotten so… _testy_ as of late that honestly? He was kind of unpleasant to be around.

And whose fault had that been? Good ol’ impulsive Fiora. Forgiving herself was going to be an uphill battle, wasn’t it? She had to keep reminding herself that she _did_ think this through — but that still didn’t make it feel any less like a stupid, impulsive decision. What if she had thrown out something amazing for no good reason? You know, something amazing like… your boyfriend just leaving town without word for weeks only to come back like nothing was wrong. Or people asking, “Where’s Shulk?” “How are you getting by without Shulk?” “A shame Shulk’s not here, sure you’d cook him something fantastic!” She was just buying groceries for her house. That she still lived in with her brother. The house she was standing in now, looking at herself in the mirror — liking what she saw. But that wasn’t the point she was trying to make! …in her head. The point was that people just ignored anything about her that didn’t have anything to do her relationship with Shulk. Some people were already asking about marriage and kids? Sure they’d known each other for years and years, but they had barely been dating for a full year before she just. Broke it off.

Like most of her hair.

The cut she had from her Mechon body was pretty cute, she wouldn’t lie. She kept it for a while. But then she asked herself: could she make it shorter? Like, why not? Who was going to complain? Shulk? He wouldn’t mind if she showed up covered in slime. And the way everyone else was acting, well. She was starting not to care about what _they_ thought, either. It wasn’t like she was going to hop in a time machine and tell her past self not to feel self-conscious about her mechanical body, but if she could do that, she’d tell her not to worry about what the other fools thought. So she’d… cut off quite a bit of her hair on the side. It was _super_ short. But she left a bit of bang on the other side. Reyn thought it was ace. Shulk?

Shulk… was in the Military District, where she needed to go, but holed up in the Weapons Development Lab. He’d be in there for hours. Which meant she probably wasn’t going to run into him.

“Time to go, then,” she said to herself.

* * *

Fiora wasn’t a stranger in the Military District. That _had_ been partly because of Shulk, and of course most people assumed he was the sole reason she’d come here, but _actual_ reason why she was here was because she was training. Vangarre had upped his recruitment efforts to the point where she “couldn’t resist” — though it was more that he’d been offering her something that’d been on her mind for a while. She had initially turned him down because she had to take care of Dunban. Then she turned him down because of her mechanical body. Then she turned him down because she had _just_ gotten her Homs body back. Then… Then she ran out of excuses, to herself and to Vangarre. She had to admit it: she liked being able to fight for people. It was exhilarating and she was good at it. Vangarre even said she might be too good for the Defense Force, that “somebody else” might snatch her up before she was done training. Alcamoth was a suggestion, one she wasn’t opposed to. She _did_ miss Melia an awful lot now that she’d moved back to her home city.

She was grateful that most of the other soldiers around here had given up on the whole “Shulk and Fiora” thing. Made being in this district more relaxing than any of the others, save for the whole. Higher probability of running into Shulk here thing. But he’d been keeping to himself in the Weapons Development Lab and his flat in the Military District, so it really was a matter of timing. Don’t hang out around here in the brief moments of the morning and night when he’d sulk his way to and from work. She really _did_ want to speak to Shulk again, but…

She cast a weary glance towards the Weapons Development Lab — then found herself walking towards it.

“Reyn?”

Reyn did a double-take, as if to assure himself that he had, in fact, seen a light at the end of a dark tunnel. She let out a sigh as she stopped in front of him. “It’s Shulk, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Reyn replied, scratching his head. “We got ‘im to take a walk outside, at least.”

“Did you? I didn’t see him.”

“It was a li’l while ago. He probably moved so he didn’t attract any attention, anyway.”

“And he clearly didn’t bite off your head.”

“I dunno about all that…” Reyn again scratched his head, but this time with an inquisitive confusion directed towards her.

She simply tilted her head in response.

So he asked, “Say, Fiora. When you said ‘he’, who was you talkin about?”

Fiora furrowed her brow. “‘ _He_ ’?”

“When I asked you if Shulk would go for anyone else, you said, ‘Who knows where he is’. Is that ‘he’… Did you mean Alvis?”

Fiora’s eyes widened in shock.

Reyn glared at her incredulously. “What’s that look for?” he asked.

“You’re right,” she replied. “I did mean Alvis.”

“Honestly, that was the only other ‘he’ I could think of.”

“And not yourself?”

“What?”

Fiora put her hands on her hips, leaning forward. “Come on, Reyn. You’d be a catch for him, too. You are his best friend, after all.”

“So are you.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“D-do you think he likes me?”

“Did you forget you’re the reason why he knows he likes guys?”

“I… well… I dunno what to say.”

Fiora leaned back, pressing a finger against her face, in thought. “Well, he’s single, now. Maybe you should go for it, Reyn. Ask him out on a date. I trust you with him more than I do anyone else in this colony.”

Reyn gawked at her.

She waited.

And waited.

“—are you playin’ with me Fiora?” Reyn asked, annoyed.

“Kinda,” she replied sheepishly. “I mean, if you want to go for it—”

Reyn shook his head. “I’d have the same problem as you: the ‘Al’ problem.”

“It’s not a _problem_ , it’s just… something I think he…”

“You think he likes Alvis?”

“He hasn’t said anything to me to that effect but. He’d keep talking about Alvis, wondering where Alvis was. And Alvis has done a lot for him, you know? So I wonder. I do know he misses Alvis a lot.”

“You think he’d go looking for him?”

“If he knew where he was.”

“And what if he found him?”

“I’d… Deal with that as it comes. Maybe he does only like Alvis as a friend, or maybe Alvis doesn’t like him back. But if it’s mutual… I’d want Shulk to be with someone who makes him happy.”

“You made him happy.”

“The _idea_ of me made him happy,” she said gloomily.

“Well maybe if he snapped out of it, as you said.”

“What would I do in the meantime? Just wait?”

“Nah, I — hang on?”

Fiora’s instincts kicked in fast enough for her turn towards what Reyn was staring at: a person running fast down the bridge to the Residential District.

“—Shulk?”

* * *

They’d been on dates here many times since the world had been reborn. Even so, she knew Shulk still liked to go here alone to sort out his thoughts; but she’d never seen him _run_ here like he did. Watching the way he behaved, she… understood why. Something was very, _very_ wrong. She kept her silence and her distance, waiting for the right moment to make her presence known.

Then Shulk had begun to laugh. Her legs started to move independently of her mind. “What’s wrong, Shulk?” she asked, rushing towards him.

His laughter stopped abruptly. He rose to his feet, hands loosening. She lunged forward, catching the object that had fallen out of Shulk’s hand before it hit the ground. “Phew! Just in time!” she said, standing up straight, idly bouncing the object in her hand. Shulk gawked at her with horror. She frowned, looked at the object in her hand — stopped bouncing it immediately. “Is this…?”

“I don’t know.”

Shulk’s voice sounded so… _broken_. Hoarse and tiny. He _really_ wasn’t okay.

“Maybe you should sit down,” she said, not giving him a choice. She put a hand on one of his shoulders and gently guided him back down on the bench, leaving enough space for her to sit next to him.

She looked at the crystal in her hand. “Where did you find this?” she asked.

“The Commercial District,” Shulk replied. “A Nopon was selling it. Said they found it on a mountain.”

“A mountain? What mountain?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Hmm.” Fiora began to gently bob her hand again, testing the weight of the crystal as she turned her gaze towards it. The crystal didn’t feel like it was fragile enough to break if she dropped it — maybe it’d chip, at best. But better safe than sorry, _especially_ if this belonged to to who she thought it did. The brief time she had spent around him was long enough for this crystal to remind her of him, even if it did seem to be a bit bigger than his pendant. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything else shaped like this,” she said, looking back to Shulk. “And it _is_ the same color. Maybe it’s connected to his ‘family’? Wasn’t he from a line of seers?”

“No. That was a lie.”

“Yeah, but the High Entia believed it. Do you think if we went to Alcamoth and asked Melia—”

“She’s busy.”

“But not too busy to speak to a friend, right?”

Shulk sighed and slumped forward.

Cautiously, she placed a hand on his shoulder, saying nothing, letting him sort through the pessimism — and letting him know she was there.

After a moment, Shulk said, “…the Nopon mentioned something about a… a ‘Holy Grail’. That you had to find all the pieces to find happiness. The crystal is part of that, somehow.”

“Holy Grail? Never heard of it. Maybe we should ask the Nopon for more information?”

Shulk sighed. “There’s no point. The crystal isn’t his.”

“But what if it is? You’ll never know if you just give up, Shulk. I know you miss him. Maybe this is the key to finding him.”

“And what if it isn’t?” he asked, looking at her with uneasy eyes.

“If it isn’t then we’ll have spoken to a Nopon and, horror of horrors, gone to Alcamoth to speak to our friend about it. Can’t imagine anything worse than speaking to Melia.” She offered him a small smile.

Shulk looked away from her, shaking his head. “You don’t get it,” he replied. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to ‘face reality’? Why are you telling me to chase after a… a _possibility_?”

“Because I know you miss Alvis. And something tells me ‘reality’ for him is quite different than ‘reality’ for us.”

“You’re right, but it’s much more complicated than what you think.”

Fiora held out the crystal. “What I think, Shulk, is that you’ve got a lead. And you should follow it. Maybe this _does_ wind up being a wild goose chase, but if it brings you back to your friend then… it’s worth it, isn’t it?”

Shulk stared at her hand silently, then gently picked up the crystal. “The Nopon probably meant Valak Mountain,” he said. “That’s where Zanza’s Monado was held. Alvis… said that he was the Monado. So perhaps…” He folded his hand around the crystal, shaking his head. “No. No, this isn’t—”

“Shulk, look. Wherever you have to go for this, I’ll go with you. Vangarre probably wants me to get more field experience, anyway.”

“More than what you already have?”

Fiora’s smile widened at the hint of humor in Shulk’s voice. “Yep. You know ol’ ‘square-tache’. Besides, if this has any connection to the High Entia, that means we’d have to go to Alcamoth.”

“Do you miss Melia?”

“Of course I do.”

Shulk’s face twitched just a little. Fiora realized he was trying to grin.

“Is that why…”

“Is that why what?”

Shulk shook his head again. “No, nothing.”

“Oh, come on. Let it out!”

“Melia.”

“Melia what?”

Shulk let out a heavy sigh, lifting his face towards the sky, the faintest trace of a grin on a face that belied a multitude of conflicting emotions. “I’m no good at this ‘joking’ thing,” he said.

“You’re just tired, Shulk,” Fiora replied, rising to her feet. She held out a hand. “Wanna go to the Commercial District? Get _something_ out of that Nopon. Like an interrogation. You can stop by our house after. I’ll make us dinner.”

Shulk stared at her hand, his face still awash with fatigue. Sadness. Bemusement. He held up one of his hands, clasping Fiora’s, rising to his feet. “Alright, Fiora. Let’s go.”


	4. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If nothing else, you must remember yourself.

“You oughta get a stool for this one.”

The young man glanced at Dunban over his shoulder, smirking as he nodded towards the little girl standing on her tiptoes next to him.

“Or he could lift me up!” Fiora cried impatiently, bouncing on her feet, her gaze fixated on the pots atop the stove. “Come on, Dunban! I wanna see!”

Dunban let out an exaggerated sigh. He’d gotten quite comfortable in this chair, which provided an excellent view of the kitchen. He was watching the young man cook, too. His fascination and Fiora’s were one and the same. None of the ingredients the young man used were foreign to Colony 9, yet he imbued them with a life neither Dunban nor Fiora had ever seen or considered. They couldn’t help but be engrossed — even if this wasn’t the first time the young man had cooked for them.

“Fiora, you’ve gotten — _so_ _—_ heavy,” Dunban said, hoisting Fiora up high enough to see the stove. She paid him no mind, not even gasping when she felt herself suddenly airborne.

Their fascination wasn’t lost on the cook. He regarded them both with a proud grin. “Want me to teach ya how to make this?” he asked Fiora.

“Oooh!” Fiora cooed in response. “But… I can’t reach the stove!”

“Well, if someone had a mind to buy ya a stool,” the cook responded, shooting Dunban a wry glance.

“When I have the funds — and the time,” said Dunban.

“Hmph. I can see what I can nab from the Military District…”

“You mean, steal?”

“Stealing is _wrong_!” Fiora gasped.

“Ah — yeah.” The young chef rolled his head around his shoulders, concealing the dark look that had crossed his face.

Dunban remained silent. It was easy to condemn stealing when you lived a sheltered life. Dunban and Fiora had only just recently known what it was like to fend for themselves. Even so, many considered Dunban an adult now, mature enough to take care of a child, even if that child was his little sister. He’d never known what it was like to survive on his own, to live without a home. His movements in combat were refined, strategic — learned, the movements of one for which battles were a looming possibility rather than a constant, immediate threat. The young man fought as if his life depended on it — adaptation. Fear. How long had he been running scared? Such was Dunban’s first thought upon seeing him stumble into Colony 9. He wasn’t the first refugee Dunban had seen, and he wouldn’t be the last, but… something about him…

Dunban patted one of the young man’s shoulders a few times before he let his hand linger. The young man didn’t touch his hand back. That was fine. Mumkhar was never good at sentimental gestures, anyway, especially not with Fiora watching.

“Hey Dunban?”

He set Fiora down, tapping her nose as he noted her scowl. “I’ll see if I can find something around the house to help you watch Mumkhar cook, at least,” he said.

“Dunban?”

“Hm? What is it, Fiora?”

“Wake _up_ , Dunban!”

His eyes lazily opened to a room dim in the afternoon light — and markedly absent of any scents from cooking. Fiora, much older, stood in front of the chair where he had fallen asleep, her hand loosening its grip on his shoulder. She quickly turned away, perching herself on the armrest; even so, he could see the anxious expression on her face. “Sorry,” she said, tapping her hands together. “It’s just, I wanted you to know… I’m bringing a guest over for dinner tonight. It’s… Shulk.”

“I— I see.”

Dunban hadn’t spoken to Shulk for weeks before he’d paid him a visit earlier today. Even speaking to Shulk that briefly had taken a lot out of him, more than Reyn suspected, he assumed. But then, he’d gotten quite good at concealing his feelings over the years. Reyn was likely marveling how he’d handled Shulk “like a champ”. Dunban… Dunban had just wanted to sleep it off; but it seemed his mind had other ideas.

A slight movement from Fiora pulled him out of his thoughts. She was directing a cautious glance at him over her shoulder. “I was hoping… you’d help me get ready?” she asked. “The food. I… I have to help Shulk with something in the Commercial District. Then I’ll be right back.”

“Very well,” Dunban replied with a nod.

“So if you could maybe… peel some potatoes…”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Fiora nodded again, then stood up, casting a nervous glance towards her brother. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Before he could respond, she had already turned and darted out the door.

All he could do was sigh.

He wasn’t the _best_ potato peeler in the world, but Fiora wasn’t picky. She probably asked him to do it because she knew even doing that imperfectly would keep his mind off of what was coming. But he couldn’t bring himself to stand just yet.

Dreaming about _him_ of all people, after speaking to Shulk… He wished his intuition was as sharp as Fiora’s. Perhaps he would have known today would be a wash and made other plans. Or would this memory crawl from the murky recesses of his mind regardless _when_ he spoke to Shulk? After all, that man was the reason why he had such unreasonable expectations for Shulk and Fiora. Why he projected onto them. Why he had given up on love for himself — and sought to experience it vicariously through his friends and family, which wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all Fiora. _Or_ Shulk. Even now he was holding Shulk to an unfair standard, disappointed that he hadn’t fought to stay with Fiora. What was Dunban expecting, precisely? That a solitary Fiora would wander down the wrong path? Even though she had Dunban? Even though she had her friends? Even though she had a strong mind? But Mumkhar had no one, not even when he was with Dunban. Because Dunban hadn’t tried hard enough.

As he stood, his mind pulled up another memory: a recent one, of Fiora saying, “It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could have done to stop him from going down the path he did. Some people are just…”

Bad?

She said something much different when she was younger. “Don’t be sad, Dunban!” she’d say, standing on a box she had found somewhere as she taught herself to cook in Mumkhar’s stead. “I’ll take care of you! We’ll be fine!” She’d smile a reassuring smile — and that would make him feel worse. Because he was an adult, and she was a child, but _she_ was taking care of _him_. _She_ was teaching _herself_ things that would help them survive in this house. All he knew was how to swing a sword. Handy when there were Mechon about, but on peaceful days when they were hungry? Alone in this orphaned house?

“Peel the potatoes, Dunban!”

He had cut himself on the first try. Twenty-two years old and couldn’t peel a potato. But Fiora had just smiled. It would be okay. She still said that to him sometimes, still with the same reassuring smile; but her opinion of Mumkhar had changed. As a child, she didn’t seem interested — or, rather, willing — to speak about him after he’d gone. She’d distract Dunban with declarations about what _she_ was going to do. Usually, that’d be cooking. Dunban didn’t need Mumkhar when he had Fiora, a child who didn’t fully understand what Mumkhar had been to him. But she understood, now, as an adult, and she understood something horrible that she never should have learned: that some people were beyond saving, and those who wished dearly that they could save those people just had to accept that they couldn’t.

She never said that part out loud, nor did she ever say Mumkhar was “bad”, but the implications lingered in her silence. Mumkhar _was_ bad. Beyond redemption. And Dunban had to accept it: there was nothing he could do to change Mumkhar. Who had taught Fiora that horrible truth? Ever since her break-up, he couldn’t help but wonder… But she was bringing him over for dinner. Had she changed her tune? Or had he simply assumed, because of his tendency to project? But who _else_ could have taught her that terrible lesson if not for the man who—

No.

Dunban ambled to the kitchen, selecting a potato from a basket on the counter. He had a feeling he was going to make the same mistake with this potato as he had with that one ten years ago…

* * *

Shulk may as well not have been there.

Once Fiora assured him she didn’t need his help preparing dinner, he retreated into the most obscure corner of the house he could find, staring constantly at something in his hand. Fiora told Dunban to pay him no mind, that she’d explain what the deal was after Shulk left. Dunban kept his inquiries to himself — and tried not to stare too hard at Shulk’s odd behavior.

Shulk didn’t say much during dinner, either. It didn’t take too long before Dunban realized that when Shulk wasn’t staring at his hand, he was going out of his way not to look Dunban in the eye. Like he was afraid of him. Fiora, as always, tried to keep things going and civilized, but even she went quiet — after she’d asked Shulk if he wanted to speak to Dunban about “the thing”. Shulk had declined. He had a feeling this was related to what Fiora would elaborate on after Shulk left. Just as well; his head started to swim with questions once he caught glimpse of the red gem in Shulk’s hand. He saw enough to know the gem had been cut, but not enough to know its full shape. Even so, something about the gem felt… _familiar_ …

But the only time Shulk ever looked him in the eye that night was when he caught Dunban trying to get a better look at the gem. After that, he kept the gem well-hidden. Dunban let the matter go — and let the dinner, under Fiora’s direction, fall into a heavy silence.

* * *

“Did you… see the crystal in his hand?”

Shulk had been gone for quite some time. Dunban hadn’t pressed Fiora to speak; he simply assisted her, quietly, as she cleaned up the kitchen and dining room table. They were nearly done washing the dishes, in fact.

“I didn’t get a good look at it, no,” Dunban replied.

Fiora was leaning forward with her hands pressed against the edge of the sink. Something was weighing heavily on her mind.

“Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?” he asked. “He seemed to guard it heavily.”

Fiora nodded, briefly bouncing on the ball of one of her feet. “That crystal… we think it belongs to Alvis.”

“Alvis?”

Dunban grasped the plate in his hands tightly, to stop it from falling.

 _That_ was what was familiar about the gem! The color! The shape of Alvis’s pendant was strange, certainly, but not strange enough to render the whole necklace and pendant suspicious. Dunban supposed he never would have remembered it if he hadn’t caught himself staring at its movements — or, rather, lack thereof. The pendant seemed to be affixed to Alvis’s chest. Of course, it was quite rude to stare at anyone’s chest, let alone ask if something was affixed to it, so Dunban had never gotten to the bottom of his suspicions —

“Are you done deducing?”

Fiora had seemed rather somber before; now she stared at him with a hint of bemusement.

Dunban gently set down the plate in his hands with a chuckle. “My apologies, Fiora.”

She offered a smile, laced with relief. He had the feeling this was the first she had felt even slightly lighthearted in some time this evening. “Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “But that is what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, Shulk bought it off a Nopon in the Commercial District. She said she found it ‘on the mountain’ as part of a search for something called the ‘Holy Grail’. Have you ever heard of that?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Dunban said, placing a hand on his chin. Even that, somehow, seemed to set a spark in Fiora’s eyes. Perhaps any tendency to “deduce”, as she said, made her feel better. Like normalcy had returned.

Why was she feeling so gloomy to begin with?

“The Nopon said she _did_ find it on Valak Mountain,” replied Fiora. “That makes Shulk think the myth is connected to the High Entia.”

“Perhaps. There are several High Entia structures and monuments on Valak Mountain. Giant structures, as well.”

“ _Oh_ …” Fiora whined.

Dunban chuckled again. “Is that why you wanted to speak to _me_ about this?”

“Because of your ‘worldly knowledge’, yeah,” she said, waving her hands. “Well? What do _you_ think? High Entia or Giant? We can’t do both, especially since the Giants are all dead.”

“Hmm.” Dunban frowned, stopping himself short of saying ‘ _as of two years ago_ ’. This afternoon was… one reminder of “old friends” too many. “The Giants may be dead,” he continued, “but their history is quite alive — and quite local to us, in one case.”

“Tephra Cave, yeah. And there’s plenty of stuff up on the Bionis’s Shoulder, where Alcamoth is.”

“Well, there you go. You can see if you can find anything about the Holy Grail in the ruins on Bionis’s Shoulder — and catch up with Melia while you’re at it.”

Fiora pressed her fists against her hips. “What’s all this about Melia, eh?”

“I— beg your pardon?”

Fiora glared at him a moment longer before her expression softened into embarrassment. “Er… forget about that,” she said, letting her arms lay flat at her sides. “Shulk just… A-anyway, I guess I could suggest that to him. He should be familiar with the area anyway, what with all that time he spent up there without giving anyone a warning.”

She had her hands on her hips again. Shulk’s excursion into Bionis’s Shoulder without warning anyone where he’d gone was… a sore point to her, to say the least.

Dunban wiped the suds off his hands with a towel. He turned round, resting his back against the sink as he watched Fiora. “Does Shulk want to find Alvis that badly?”

Fiora’s expression softened again — back into the somberness of before. “Yeah,” she said quietly.

Dunban frowned again, deeper than before. He felt something tug at his heart. Concern?

Or… _sympathy_?

“Was Alvis truly that important to him?” he asked.

Fiora turned and walked towards the dining room table, head and shoulders slumped.

The tugging at Dunban’s heart felt even heavier than before, giving way to an increasing beat. His mouth felt dry. Why? For what purpose? It wasn’t the indignation he felt at seeing Fiora stalk about Colony 9 without a clue as to where Shulk had gone. It felt like… an aching. A longing. A yearning. On his own behalf, not Fiora’s, for something long since buried underneath his hopes and dreams for others. Or… had it been? Had it been buried for that long, or had something recent brought it to the fore? In… Valak Mountain? In the eyes of a young man gazing across a spent fire at the sleeping form of another, eyes youthful seeming that belied the same loneliness, the same longing that Dunban had tried to conceal. Hope that what once was could be again, hope that a far-off desire was now within reach — dimmed in the smoke of the once-crackling flames.

Was that his own truth he saw — reflected in Alvis’s searching gaze?

It felt like an eternity since either of them had spoken, an eternity during which he had been made to stare at the part of himself he thought he had forgotten. And when Fiora quietly said, “He was,” he saw himself in stark relief once: a young man staring quietly at the impossible.

Or was that not him? Was that… Alvis? Or were he and Alvis one in the same?

“Alvis was there at his darkest moments,” Fiora continued, not looking at him, not looking at anything but the neatly arranged surface of the dining room table. “At times when not even my voice could reach him, Alvis’s did.”

Dunban closed his eyes, pushing the sight of himself — of Alvis — out of his mind. “So he views Alvis as a light that guides him through the darkness.”

“Exactly.”

Dunban didn’t know how to respond. He _couldn_ _’t_ respond. He was seeing a reflection of himself again: this time, in the tight, white palms of a man clinging to a memory.

“To tell you the truth, Dunban, I knew this was gonna happen when I broke up with him.”

Dunban opened his eyes. Fiora had turned to face him, though her gaze was aimed downward.

“Then why did you let him go?” Dunban asked. He felt his heart race. “What if… what if he—”

“What if he’s in love with Alvis?”

Fiora looked up at him, then. Her gaze was calm and steady enough to make his heart come to a sudden halt. His mind was racing with questions, projections. In Fiora’s eyes were sadness — and resolution.

“Then I’ll deal with it,” she said. “I just… I couldn’t let him suffer like that.”

“But what about you?”

Fiora’s mouth cracked into a grin. “I’m a big girl, Dunban. Besides, even if I love Shulk… being his girlfriend isn’t the only way to be with him, you know? As long as he’s happy…”

“Do you think he’d be happy with Alvis?”

“I don’t know,” she said, rubbing her arms. “If he does find Alvis and they do get together, then I hope he walks in to that relationship with a clear head. None of this lofty dream nonsense. And if he _does_ do that, well. I’ll show him what for!”

Dunban felt his mouth hang open in surprise. Once again in the shoes of his twenty-two year old self, consoled by a child. _Don_ _’t be sad, Dunban. We’ll be fine!_

He lowered his head, forcing an unsteady grin. “You’ve grown into a fine young woman, Fiora.”

“Oh, come off it,” she said, lightly tapping his arm. “We’re almost done with the dishes, yeah? So let’s get back to that.”


End file.
